


Alone with the Wolves

by supremecascas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Drama, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Minor Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, R Plus L Does Not Equal J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Not Jon Snow's Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremecascas/pseuds/supremecascas
Summary: Robb, Jon, and Daenerys have been inseparable since the day they could walk. Then their world changes when Robert Baratheon comes to Winterfell and nothing is the same afterwards.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Daenerys Targaryen, Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Jaime Lannister & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow & Robb Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Myrcella Baratheon & Sansa Stark, Robb Stark & Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa Stark & Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My old account (mysunandstars) got deleted so I'm re-uploading my stories.

**I.**

The wind howled around Eddard Stark as his men struggled to anchor Stannis Baratheon's fleet _Fury_. No longer raging, the storm had destroyed the Targaryen fleet and the parapets of Dragonstone. There was no way the Targaryens could have escaped.

They were tasked by Stannis's brother Robert to seize Dragonstone from the last dragons. Ned couldn't deny his king's order even if he wanted to. He was simply relieved to get out of King's Landing. The Red Keep held grisly memories for him, from the deaths of his brother and father to the murder of Elia Martell and her children.

_There was no honor in that conquest_ , thought Ned. The lion of Lannister defied his oath to his king and deserved to take the black, but Robert was adamant about keeping his wife's twin around. Already Ned heard the men on the fleet refer to Jaime Lannister as "Kingslayer." He agreed it was a befitting name.

Once the fleet was secured, Ned and Stannis headed towards the castle yet there was no need to storm it. The garrison guarding Dragonstone surrendered immediately. One even offered to show Ned where Aerys's widow laid if he promised to spare them. Ned said nothing, only waiting for them to guide him to the former queen. Entering her chambers, he froze at the sight of her. Lying in her bed in tangled, bloodied sheets, Rhaella Targaryen held a whimpering baby. Her damp silver-blonde hair accentuated the pallor of her face. Her face, the blood… Ned had to push back the painful memories of Lyanna.

"My lady," Ned said, hoping his voice didn't sound weak.

"Do… do not harm… my child." Her voice was hoarse and she winced with every labored breath. " _Please_."

She must have heard of what the Lannisters did to Elia and her grandchildren. She likely thought he was here to repeat those atrocities. Robert held no part in it but showed no remorse when the bodies were brought forward. Would he allow this child to follow the same fate? Ned didn't want to believe it, but Robert's words echoed in his head.

" _I see no babes, only dragonspawn_."

Moving closer to Rhaella, he went on one knee by the former queen's bed.

"My lady, no harm shall come to your child as long as I live," Ned vowed.

Her purple eyes glistened with tears. She gave a trembling nod and looked down at her baby. "Her name… her name is Daenerys Stormborn…"

Ned waited for her to say more but there was only silence. He watched her eyes close and took the child from her slack arms. Rhaella Targaryen was dead and now he had to protect her child. _So innocent_ , he thought as the baby continued to whimper. Gods, what was he thinking? He already had two children back home, now a third.

"Lord Eddard." Ned flinched and turned around to face Stannis. "We could not locate the boy anywhere."

"He must have escaped," he murmured, frowning. Wherever the boy was, he hoped it was somewhere safe. "We must build a funeral pyre for Lady Rhaella."

"And the… the child?" Stannis grimaced at the word.

"I shall keep her as my ward." Stannis widened his eyes, shock crossing his normally serious face. Ned looked down at the babe in his arms. She finally stopped whimpering. "I promised her mother that I'd protect her. I can't hand her over to Robert."

"Robert never meant for Princess Elia or her children to—"

"There's no need to defend your brother, Stannis. We both know Robert wanted Rhaegar's family dead."

Stannis clenched his jaw yet remained silent. He sounded as uncomfortable as he looked when he said, "He is my brother and king, but I refuse to bear the name kinslayer."

Ned had nearly forgotten that Stannis's grandmother was a Targaryen. It meant Robert was a kinslayer for killing Rhaegar at the Trident, but he doubted the newly crowned king or anyone else cared.

"I will not stop you, Eddard," Stannis said, meeting his eyes. "But Robert will."

"I can handle Robert," Ned replied evenly.

_When_ _the cold wind blows the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives_ , he remembered his father telling him.

Daenerys had no pack. Hers was gone and no one was going to protect her from the true dangers in the world. Ned promised Rhaella to care for her daughter and he meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

It took time for Catelyn Stark to adjust to her new life in Winterfell. She heard of the north and its unforgiving winter, but her betrothal to Brandon made imagining living there easier. He and the children she'd bear for him were all she needed, but the gods had other plans for them. Yet even with Brandon's sudden death, she never expected her new husband to shelter three children that were not their own.

Although it was expected for noblemen to father bastards, Catelyn never believed Ned would have one. She supposed even the noblest of men could fall victim to lust, but to raise the bastard among their _children_? It was a constant slap across the face every time she looked at the boy, reminding her of Ned's infidelity. Knowing there was nothing she could say or do to make him send Jon away, Catelyn was resigned to his presence. Then there was the ward. Ned took in Theon Greyjoy after his father led a rebellion against Robert Baratheon. Catelyn couldn't object to that since the boy was meant to prevent another war. He raised Theon among their sons and allowed Ser Rodrik Cassel to train him in arms. She detested his ever-present smirk but bore no ill will towards the youth.

Lastly was the _other_ ward. The one that caused an uproar among the northern lords. Daenerys Stormborn, one of the last Targaryens. Catelyn knew of the vow Ned made to the late Rhaella and understood why he risked their lives—at least _now_ she could. She couldn't comprehend it all those years ago and wondered if the gods were punishing her with a man who brought bastards and mad children into their home.

"What kind of man do you take me for?" Ned demanded, when she questioned his decision. "To condemn an innocent child for her father's sins? Allow her to grow up alone, with her mother dead and her brother slain? Rhaegar may have taken my sister, but I will not blame her for such actions, and neither should anyone else."

Daenerys remained and like Jon and Theon, she was raised alongside their children. "Lord Stark's third daughter," jested Jory Cassel, which was partly true. Before the girls were born, Catelyn worried Ned would favor Daenerys over them. Her concerns disappeared once the girls were born and Ned indulged each of them. Still, she wondered how long he meant to keep Daenerys. Catelyn never found the courage to ask Ned such a question… until today.

The color drained from Ned's face when she told him the news. "She's flowered?" he repeated uneasily.

It happened in the middle of the night. Daenerys woke from sudden pain and called for a serving maid when she found blood on her sheets. Ever since then, she hadn't left her bed from the pain. Her fourteenth nameday was a fortnight ago, so she knew Daenerys would get her first moon's blood soon.

"She's a woman now," Catelyn said, leaning against his desk.

"She's still a child," Ned muttered. He was more grim about this than she expected. "Is she handling it well?"

"I have yet to see her but I'm certain she's handling it much better than Lysa did," she replied, smiling. Lysa thought she was bleeding to death before Catelyn explained everything. "Ned, what do you intend to do with Daenerys?"

He gave her a questioning look. Catelyn hesitated before continuing, "She's getting older and you cannot protect her forever. Mordane believes Oldtown would suit her. She could become a septa or…" She trailed off when she noticed the stony look on Ned's face.

"Cat," he began slowly, "I intend to keep her _here_. She is safest in Winterfell and should anything happen to me, Robb will protect her... Now check on her for me."

Ned turned back to his paperwork and his silence was enough for Catelyn to know she was dismissed. It wasn't often he was cold with her, but if she ever brought up Jon or Daenerys then the warmth he preserved for her would disappear. Squaring her shoulders, she walked out of his solar and headed for the young girl's chambers. She found Daenerys still in her bed, but Sansa was there as well. Their chattering came to a halt when they noticed Catelyn at the door.

"Why aren't you at your lessons?" Catelyn asked. It wasn't like Sansa to miss her lessons. In fact, the young girl looked forward to them. Septa Mordane only had praise for her eldest daughter. Arya was a different matter, but there was still time for her to become a lady.

"Oh, um, I just wanted to, well, I didn't want to leave Daenerys alone," Sansa stammered, glancing between Catelyn and Daenerys.

"Daenerys will be fine. Now go before Arya thinks she can miss lessons as well," she commanded.

"Yes, Mother." Sansa kept her head down as she hurried out of her shared chambers.

"My apologies, Lady Stark," Daenerys said, demure. "Do not blame Sansa. She only felt bad for me and wanted to keep me company."

Daenerys made to get out of her bed, but Catelyn noticed her wince as she did. She motioned for her to stay and went over to the bed. She sat down on the edge of it and looked at Daenerys, remembering her first moon's blood. Catelyn was twelve and once her father learned of it, he arranged her betrothal to Brandon. She was thankful for such an excellent match, but afraid as well. At least Daenerys didn't have to worry about that.

"I see," Catelyn murmured then stood to call for a servant to draw a bath. "This will help with the pain. It will pass soon."

"It doesn't seem like it," Daenerys replied doubtfully. She hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Do you still get your moon's blood?"

"I do," Catelyn answered, nodding. She smiled at the horrified expression on Daenerys's face. "It hurts less as you get older. You'll get used to it by the end of the year."

"Will I... will Lord Stark arrange a betrothal for me? Now that I'm flowered?" Daenerys questioned and Catelyn blinked in surprise. The girl was far more observant than she realized. From the tentativeness in her voice, Catelyn doubted the young girl was excited at the prospect of one.

"No, you don't have to concern yourself with that," Catelyn told her. She headed towards the door. "I'll leave you to your bath."

"Thank you, Lady Stark," Daenerys said, the sincerity in her voice making Catelyn pause. "I appreciate your counseling. It... means a lot."

Catelyn kept her distance throughout the years, but had the maester watch Daenerys with careful eyes. She refused to let the Targaryen madness surprise them and no matter how many times Luwin reported that there weren't any signs, Catelyn held her suspicions. Aerys didn't become mad until later in life. Yet Daenerys's heartfelt words lessened her misgivings.

Forcing a smile, she said, "You're welcome."

* * *

When Jon Snow wanted to hide away from the rest of the world, he went to the godswood.

He sat resting his back against the heart tree, staring at the black pool in front of him. Jon wished his mind could be as still as the water. Instead it raced with thoughts of his mother and Lady Stark's cold eyes. It hurt to think of either, so Jon turned to memories of him, Robb, and Dany.

When their lessons with Maester Luwin ended, they would run through the halls together. They played games outside, pretending to battle the Others. Now they didn't spend as much time together. Dany spent her days with Sansa and Arya learning the gentle arts. Jon still spent time with Robb in the yard, but his brother found himself a companion in Theon Greyjoy. Robb revered the older boy and Jon couldn't comprehend it. Whenever they were in the yard, Greyjoy would either ignore him or smile slyly and say something to infuriate him. Thankfully, Robb didn't abandon Jon, but he would eventually. Father would have to teach Robb how to rule Winterfell soon, leaving Jon alone.

Yet Jon wasn't alone for long. He looked up from the pool when he heard someone coming. Somehow, Dany always knew where to find him.

"Jon," she called, stepping over the roots weaved into the ground. "Are you hiding from me?"

"No." He almost smiled. "I didn't think you would leave your chambers."

"I didn't as well," Dany admitted, smiling. She sat down beside him, so close that he could smell the lavender oil on her skin. "Lady Stark even came to see me."

Lady Stark. Those blue eyes glaring at him with such contempt. Jon should be used to it by now, but it still felt like a blow to the face whenever she looked at him. Hearing it in her voice made it worse. She hardly spoke to him and after today Jon was relieved she didn't.

Dany noticed his silence. "Is everything all right?"

"No," Jon replied, sighing, There was no use in keeping this from Dany. She would find out one way or another. "Something happened with Lady Stark. She saw me with Arya in the yard showing her how to use a sword. She was livid and said that I couldn't do anything right... I don't know what I've done to offend her, but it makes me wonder about..."

His stomach lurched at the word _mother_. After all these years, Jon still knew nothing of her. Father grew distant and excuse himself to continue his lordly duties whenever he asked, so Jon guessed that she was dead. He wondered if she wanted him, wondered if she loved him.

Jon turned his head to Dany when she placed her hand above his right one. "One day, Jon, Lady Stark will see past the name Snow and will see _you_."

"You think so?" he asked, meeting her violet eyes. She truly believed that Lady Stark would see more than just a bastard in him.

_What do you see in me_? Jon wanted to ask, but couldn't find the courage to do so. He turned away from her, embarrassed and confused. Could she hear how loud and fast his heart was beating?

"We should go inside," Jon suddenly said, getting to his feet. "We should avoid the kitchens. Last time I went through there, I caught Greyjoy fucking a scullery maid."

"What?" Dany smiled, amused. "You did not."

"It's true," he insisted, no longer abashed. "He had her bent over a table and—"

"Enough!" Dany exclaimed, laughing. "I don't want to hear about Theon's rutting."

He smiled and helped her stand. Not too long after they entered the castle, Robb found them. Grinning, he lowered his voice as he said, "Don't tell anyone, but I have a skin of sour red."

"How did you get your hands on that?" Jon asked, surprised.

"That doesn't matter," Robb said, waving a dismissive hand. "I've never had more than a cup of wine. We should drink it tonight."

"Why tonight?" Dany asked.

Robb shrugged. "Why not?"

Jon wasn't sure if drinking a skin of sour red was a good idea, but this felt like the perfect opportunity to spend time together. Most of his days were spent honing his swordsmanship in the yard. Robb was there, but there wasn't much time to talk—unless Jon counted japes.

"All right," Jon agreed and Robb smiled widely. He couldn't help but return it. "If anyone catches us then I'm blaming you."

"Then I'm blaming Dany," Robb replied. He laughed when Dany shoved him.

"This wine better be worth it, Robb," Dany said.

Hours later, when the three of them met up in Father's solar and lounged around by the dimly lit brazier, Dany deemed the wine worthless.

"You keep drinking it," Robb pointed out.

"Because _you_ insisted we do," she replied, passing the skin over to Jon. Her face was flushed red from the wine. "Will you tell us where you got it from?"

"Theon got a maid to sneak it out of the kitchens," Robb answered, sprawling himself out on the floor.

"I'm surprised none of the maids are with child by now," Jon remarked, earning a snort from Robb. Jon tilted his head back as he swallowed a mouthful of sour red. His head felt light and his limbs loose. He welcomed this feeling as he reclined against Father's desk.

"Theon hasn't tumbled you, has he?" Robb asked, directing his question to Dany. He laughed loudly at the repulsed expression on her face.

Within the next hour, it became apparent to Jon that Dany could not handle her wine. She'd only taken four mouthfuls and was asleep with her head resting on his left thigh. The lightness in his head hadn't left, but Jon wondered if he could go higher. Robb's face was flushed like Dany's, but unlike her he hadn't passed out. He laid on his back, silent and contemplative.

"Jon," Robb said. Jon turned his head lazily over to his brother. "Do you ever think about the future?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, bringing the skin to his lips. There wasn't much left so he swallowed the rest. "I cannot stay at Winterfell forever."

"I wouldn't mind," Robb murmured and Jon smiled. Of course he wouldn't mind. "Where would you go? With Uncle Benjen?"

Jon considered asking Ben to take him to the Wall the next time he visited. He feared overstaying his welcome in Winterfell. Robb would one day inherit the ancestral castle and command great armies as the Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be Robb's bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name. Arya and Sansa would marry the heirs of other great houses. What place could a bastard hope to earn?

"The Night's Watch is a noble calling," Jon started to say, but Robb sat up shaking his head.

"I wasn't _serious_ ," he said. His blue eyes were wide in alarm. "You cannot just up and leave. You're _needed_ here."

"For what?" asked Jon, amused yet relieved that Robb didn't want him to leave.

His brother stared at him in disbelief. "Does it matter? Just know that you're needed here. I'll talk to Father about... about I don't know. But you cannot leave, Jon."

He regarded Robb, swallowing thickly from the earnest offer. Robb knew what his mother thought of Jon and would likely welcome Jon's absence should he join the Night's Watch, but Robb didn't want him to leave. His words meant more to him than Robb would ever know. He could only nod in response. Robb smiled at him before rolling onto his back.

They settled into a comfortable silence for a long time until Robb mumbled about taking a piss and pushed himself off the floor. Not too long after Robb disappeared to the privy, Jon decided it was best to get Dany back to bed. She shared a room with Arya and Sansa, but he doubted either of the girls would be awake. Gently, he shook Dany's shoulder until she groaned and lifted her head off his lap, squinting around the room.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"Still night," he answered. His hand lingered above her head, tempted to tuck a lock of silvery hair behind her ear. He pulled his hand away once Dany sat up. "Shall I escort you to your chambers?"

"If you do not mind," Dany said, smiling drowsily at him. "Where's Robb?"

"Here," called the boy in question. Robb grinned as he returned from the privy. "You're awful to drink with."

"Piss off," she retorted, though there was no actual malice in her voice. "Take me to bed, Jon."

His vision blurred when he stood to his feet too fast. He placed his hand on the edge of the desk to steady himself before helping Dany to her feet. Her hand felt fever warm and if they hadn't grown up together, Jon would have called the maester. Her skin was unnaturally warm according to Septa Mordane, but Maester Luwin mentioned it was normal for a Targaryen.

"I wonder who's leading who," Robb remarked after Jon stumbled a little out of the solar.

Jon straightened and made sure each step of his was careful on their way to Dany's chambers. Thankfully, Dany hadn't lost her sense of coordination and kept up their pace. They stumbled to a halt when they heard two different voices at the end of the hall. _Guards_ , he thought. Frozen to their spot, Jon was unsure of where to turn to next. If they moved slowly, they could avoid confrontation. Yes, that would do. All Jon had to was edge out of the hall and—

The guards ceased talking and from the faint firelight, Jon could see them tilt their heads in his direction. If they saw Dany with him and Robb this late in the night, she would surely be sent away to Oldtown.

"Go," he whispered.

"But—"

"Just _go_ ," Jon insisted. Robb stared at him for a moment before nodding. Dany was reluctant to leave, but she startled him by leaning up to give him a rushed kiss on his cheek before retreating with Robb. Just as they turned the corner, the guards finally reached him.

"Oh, it's just Snow," one of the guards, Desmond, said. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," he answered sheepishly.

The other guard, Jory Cassel, smiled at him. "You were with a girl, weren't you?"

_I was_ , thought Jon, but stayed quiet. His silence was enough to make Jory laugh lightly and clap him on the shoulder, while Desmond shook his head. "Go to bed, Snow," the older guard ordered and Jon gladly hurried back to his room.

In his dreams that night, there were a whirlwind of things he remembered. Men dressed in black, surrounding him in a place far colder than Winterfell. Dany... Jon didn't know. All he saw was her and her violet eyes and that was enough to make him wake up with his heart hammering inside his chest. That only worsened when he leaned over the bed and vomited all the wine he drank.

_Never again_ , Jon thought before retching again.


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

Months after that night with Jon and Dany, Father received a raven from the riverlands. Uncle Edmure was inviting them to a tourney at Riverrun. Robb Stark feared Father would say no since he declined invitations to tourneys over the years. To his shock, Father agreed for Mother to take him and Sansa to Riverrun and _only_ them. Robb wished everyone could go, but he supposed he had to take what he could get. He didn't know when there would be another opportunity like this.

Uncle Edmure had the Tully look with a beard Robb hoped to grow one day. His hair was a brighter shade of red than Robb's. He grinned at the sight of them and pulled Mother into the tightest hug. When they pulled away, Edmure turned to Robb first.

"The last I saw you, you were but a babe. How old are you now?" Edmure asked. Robb didn't think his uncle would be so much taller than him.

"Five-and-ten," he answered, straightening his stance. "Mother says we look alike."

"Hm." Edmure studied him then smiled again. "I see the resemblance."

Mother touched Sansa's shoulders and brought her forward. Ever the lady, Sansa curtseyed before their uncle.

"My, my, Cat, you seem to have a twin!" Edmure exclaimed, earning a giggle from Sansa. "Come. Let me show you to your rooms. I can't wait for you all to enjoy the festivities."

The festivities didn't begin until the next morning, beginning with the archery contest. King Robert Baratheon was unable to make it to the tourney. Edmure announced it at the feast last night. There was an urgent matter in King's Landing that kept the king from attending. Mother declined to watch the contest, leaving Robb and Sansa alone with their uncle. The contest went on for two hours before a knight from House Mallister won. Next was the melee that went on for hours until Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone defeated all other contestants. Edmure decreed that anyone riding in the lists would go tomorrow. Mother was still gone, but Robb remembered that she was visiting their grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully.

"Would you enter the lists, Robb?" Sansa asked, holding onto his wrist so as not to get lost in the crowd.

"Hullen says I'm strong with the lance," Robb replied, but he had little hopes of entering any lists. Father hated tournaments and he understood why, but it was still unfair.

They made it to their table with Edmure and discussed the lists as the courses came and went. Sansa was giddy and swept away by the day's events. There were no singers in the Great Hall much to Sansa's disappointment, but Robb was used to it. Singers weren't in high demand back in the north, or perhaps not in Winterfell. Whenever the Umbers or Karstarks visited, they always brought a bard along to sing some bawdy song.

Robb noticed Sansa watching the dancing couples. "Do you wish to dance?"

"I will not share my first dance with my _brother_ ," Sansa said, offended that he even offered.

"Are you expecting Florian to ask for your hand?" Robb teased. He laughed when Sansa narrowed her eyes at him. "I suppose it's getting late. Shall we return to our rooms?"

"If we must," Sansa replied, sighing.

They headed out of the Great Hall and Robb bumped into someone by the doors. He grabbed their elbow to steady them, only "them" happened to be a girl.

She wore a gown of marigold samite. Her long brown hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back in loose, thick ringlets. When she lifted her head to look at him, Robb was rendered speechless. Her eyes were a deep brown, gentle with a sharpness to them. She continued to stare right into his eyes, nothing like the shy looks the serving maids gave him back in Winterfell. Robb remembered his hand on her and quickly dropped it.

"Forgive me, my lady," he forced himself to say. "After you."

"You are too kind," she murmured, her lips curving into a dimpled smile. "I have not had the honor of knowing your name."

"Robb Stark. This is my sister Sansa," he said, hoping his voice didn't crack. "Who are you?"

"Margaery Tyrell," she replied and in one quick movement, her eyes traveled from his face to his boots. Giving him one last smile, she turned away and left with some giggling girls.

He watched her go, unable to move from where he stood until he felt a tug at his arm. He nearly forgot about Sansa.

"What?" he asked, frowning as she smiled at him.

" _Nothing_ ," she sang. His frown deepened, but decided against asking. After all, his mind could only think of Margaery Tyrell and her smile.

* * *

The castle felt strange without Robb or Sansa. Lessons with Septa Mordane were unbearable without the eldest Stark girl, so Daenerys Targaryen found herself hiding in the library. The text she picked up was on the Dance of the Dragons, intrigued by the various accounts on Rhaenyra Targaryen.

"Mordane will not appreciate you disregarding her lessons," chided a familiar voice. Dany lifted her head and smiled when she realized it was only Maester Luwin.

"I'm sure you appreciate my company more," replied Dany, earning a smile from the maester.

"True as that may be, it is not my duty to tutor you in the womanly arts," reminded Maester Luwin.

Her mind drifted to dragons and she asked, suddenly, "Have you ever seen a dragon?"

The maester tugged at the chain clinging to his neck, so tight Dany sometimes wondered how he could breathe. "Dragons are gone, Daenerys," he answered, perplexed. "Have been for more than a century and a half ago."

"Everywhere?" she asked, disappointed. When he nodded, she frowned. "Do you know of any books on dragons?"

Maester Luwin gave her an odd look, but went to find some for her. Dany climbed off the bench and stood to her feet to stretch her stiff limbs. She walked over to the window, leaning out to look over the castle, only to be met with a mop of thick auburn hair. She jumped back but laughed when she saw that it was Bran. Dany watched him scamper through the window, flopping down on the floor once he was safely inside.

"Your mother will kill you if she catches you," Dany said.

"Septa Mordane will kill you before Mother does," replied Bran, pushing himself off the floor. "I heard her complaining about you. She thinks you're on your way to becoming a wildling."

"Arya is more of a wildling than I am," she said, smiling.

"What are you doing here?" Bran asked, staring at her with thoughtful blue eyes.

"Reading about dragons," she answered. He brightened at the mention of dragons. Out of all his siblings, Bran enjoyed Old Nan's hearth tales the most.

"Can I read with you?" he asked.

"Of course." She smiled and walked over to the bench with him.

As they waited for Maester Luwin to gather the books, Dany imagined an enormous dragon with wings so wide it blocked out the sun as it took flight. She pictured herself mounted on its back, the sun warm on her skin only to be cooled by the wind gusting about her. Dany could go anywhere with a dragon. Dorne, Pentos, or perhaps even Old Valyria. She knew of the Doom that haunted Valyria, but she always wondered if entering the ruins would give her the answers Uncle Ned refused to give.

"You would never have to climb again if you owned a dragon," Dany told Bran.

"Why climb when you can fly?" Bran said brightly. "It's too bad they're all gone."

"It is," she agreed wistfully.

* * *

Margaery Tyrell knew that she was beautiful. "Pretty as a rose," Renly Baratheon always said. The stable boys would flush and stammer whenever she smiled and asked them to help her mount her horse. The only person who refused to compliment her was her grandmother.

"You're pretty enough, but there is someone far prettier than you living in a different castle," the Queen of Thorns once told her. "Oh, don't give me that look. At least you're clever. Some girls have only air between their ears."

She knew that was true, that you must be quick-witted to play the game of thrones, but Margaery didn't believe she needed to play any games with Robb Stark. She never expected to find herself intrigued by a northern boy. Margaery heard rumors about the men of the north. They were rapists who transformed into wild beasts in the night. The lords were stiff with cold water in their veins. During the brief moment they met, she knew that Robb Stark was nothing like the rumors. He was kind, handsome—so handsome, and a bit shy. The way he had stared at her... no boy had ever looked at her like that. If Margaery were being practical, she would have dismissed it as him acting courteous, but it was his _eyes_.

"The eyes never lie," Lady Taena Merryweather told her, when a conversation had inevitably turned to men and romance.

_Did his eyes lie_? Margaery wondered.

Her cousin Elinor gave her a subtle nudge with her elbow, while Megga grinned at her knowingly. Margaery looked up to find Robb Stark right in front of her. For a moment, all she could do was stare into those deep blue eyes.

"Will you dance with me, my lady?" he finally said, smiling bashfully.

"I am honored." Margaery took his hand and was led to the floor.

"I wasn't expecting your brother to win the lists," Robb said.

"Garlan is an excellent lancer," she replied, unable to hide her pride for her brother. "He's quite skilled with the sword as well, but my other brother Loras tends to steal the glory."

"Ser Loras didn't attend this tourney, did he?"

"He remains fostered at Storm's End with Renly Baratheon."

Robb nodded and they danced in silence. He proved to be a magnificent partner, fast on his feet and still hands instead of roaming her figure like some of those randy lords-in-waiting. Her breath caught in her throat when Robb twirled her and pulled her back, so close that their bodies were mere inches apart before continuing their dance. Many highborn girls would simper and parrot the compliments their mothers ingrained in their empty little heads, swelling the vanity and pride of already arrogant lords and lords-in-waiting. Margaery, however, was taught to keep a man on his toes.

"Did your father's natural son attend the tourney as well?" Margaery asked, choosing her words carefully. Some took offense to the word _bastard_.

"No, but I wish he had," Robb answered and she was surprised by how morose he sounded. The two must have been close.

"I suppose Rhaegar's sister didn't attend as well," she said, purposefully nonchalant. He looked at her curiously.

"Daenerys? No, she's in Winterfell."

"Are you two close?"

"She's like my sister." The song ended and Robb glanced around before looking back at her. "There are gardens here. Would you like to go see them?"

"With you?" she asked, suppressing a smile when he blushed and nodded. When she glanced back at her table on their way out of the Great Hall, Megga and Elinor were making ridiculous faces. She rolled her eyes at them before focusing on Robb. "We have beautiful gardens in Highgarden. Do you have any in Winterfell?"

"We have a glass garden," he answered as they walked through the corridor. "It's just to grow fruit and vegetables, but we do have blue winter roses."

"I've never seen a winter rose," Margaery said, turning to him with a smile. She had a fondness for flowers and growing up in Highgarden, she was surrounded by the most beautiful of them.

"You could, if you come to Winterfell and visit me," Robb remarked and she looked at him, surprised. His cheeks were tinged pink and he gave her a shy look. "Would you visit me?"

"If you will have me," she murmured, ignoring her racing heartbeat.

"I would have you," Robb said and the lowness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Margaery nearly jumped when his fingers brushed against hers. Silently, she berated herself for acting like this was the first time a boy held her hand. The boys she teased worked in the stables or the gardens. Light touches, chaste kisses, whispers of things she knew would get their blood hot. She found it both amusing and liberating to see how eager these boys were to win her favor. If she played this right, she could secure a betrothal tonight. Margaery supposed it was too bad for Robb that she wasn't interested in marriage at the moment.

That didn't mean she still couldn't have fun.

When his fingertips touched hers again, she twined her fingers through his, giving it a squeeze. Looking up from under her lashes, she gave him a coy smile. Eyes widening, Robb returned her smile with a sheepish one of his own. Swinging their hands lightly, they continued their stroll to the garden in silence. The air outside was cool, different from the constant humidity in Highgarden.

Robb paused to pluck a pink chrysanthemum from a nearby bush. "For you," he murmured, tucking it behind her ear. "The first flower for your crown."

She laughed, the sound more genuine than the ones she forced out to pesky relatives and visiting lords. Robb's smile widened and he looked down at his feet.

"Forgive me, but could you give me another gift?" she asked, staring at him.

"And that would be?"

"A kiss."

His jaw went slack, but he quickly closed it. He hesitated before finally nodding. There was a fluttering in the pit of her belly, a ripple of excitement going through her when he finally ducked his head to kiss her. It was clumsy and uncertain, but undoubtedly sweet. She realized the minute they pulled away that he had never kissed anyone before.

"Kiss me again," Margaery whispered.

"Again?" Robb echoed, his face flushed.

" _Yes_." She leaned towards him to capture his lips with her own.

* * *

From the moment Robb left, Jon realized his brother was the only reason keeping him and Greyjoy from killing each other.

It started off fine. He and Greyjoy practiced their archery in silence. Jon didn't try to compete with him. Everyone knew that Greyjoy was better with the bow. Then they moved to wooden swords and that's when that familiar smirk spread across Greyjoy's face.

"I bet Robb is realizing how much better life is without a bastard clinging to him," remarked Greyjoy. He blocked a heavy hit from Jon's sword. "Might as well leave before he comes back."

"And go where?" Jon demanded, managing to land a hit. The smile faltered on Greyjoy's face.

"Whatever brothel your mother came from," he replied. "Perhaps I'll join you. She'll want a taste of my iron—"

Jon dropped his sword to punch Greyjoy in the face.

Greyjoy stumbled backwards. He looked at Jon in shock before launching himself at him. Jon wasn't fast enough to block the fist to his jaw. Ignoring the searing pain in his face, he lunged forward but someone's arms went around him and held him back. Jon saw Harwin holding Theon.

"That's enough," ordered Ser Rodrik. "Lord Stark will be very disappointed in you two."

"But he talked about my _mother_!" exclaimed Jon, pointing at Greyjoy.

"That does not excuse your actions, Jon," Ser Rodrik replied sharply. He winced as the knight gazed at him in disappointment. He turned to Greyjoy who was smirking. "Nor yours, Theon. Now clean yourselves up."

Jon was finally released and he stalked off without sparing anyone a look. His anger began losing its steam the further he walked. Now he couldn't ignore the aching in his jaw. Jon grimaced as he gingerly touched the sensitive skin there. It was stupid of him to let Greyjoy get a rise out of him. Father wouldn't have acted like that. Jon hoped he wouldn't run into him anytime soon.

His aimless walking led him to the rookery where Dany stood. She noticed him approach and widened her eyes.

"Jon, what happened to your face?" she asked, hurrying over to him.

"I got into a fight with Theon," Jon explained. He winced when her fingers brushed against his bruised jaw. "What are you doing?"

"I was hoping for a letter from my uncle," Dany answered, glancing over at the ravens in their cages.

Her uncle was a maester for the Night's Watch and sent Dany letters for as long as Jon could remember. She never shared what the maester wrote to her. That was the one thing Dany kept to herself. Jon was curious, but he never pushed the subject. She would tell him when she felt like it. Of course, he wondered why she looked more nervous than excited for this letter.

"Come with me to the stables?" Dany suddenly asked. She smiled when he nodded and led the way.

They greeted Hodor and readied their horses, a grey mare with a silver mane for Dany and a brown horse with a black mane for Jon. She took off without warning and Jon raced after her. He felt himself grin as they galloped through the open land within the castle. Dany may have been Targaryen in her blood, but she rode like a northman. It wasn't until they were near the First Keep did Dany finally stop. Jon was taken aback by her windswept hair coming undone from its ribbon.

She was beautiful.

He looked around and realized it was just them and perhaps Bran if he was climbing the gargoyles surrounding the tower. Did she want them alone? Jon hated the way his hands trembled as he tied the reins of his horse to a nearby post. He sat down on the grass with Dany, waiting for her to speak.

"My last letter... I learned that I have another brother," she finally said. Jon's eyes went wide. He thought there was only Rhaegar and he had been slain by King Robert Baratheon. "His name is Viserys. _Was_. I don't know. My uncle made it sound like he was dead and perhaps he is, but... why would Ned lie to me?"

"I..." Jon couldn't think of a reason why Father would tell Dany that her family was dead, but not about this other brother. "He must have a good reason for it."

"Like he has a good reason for not telling you about your mother?" Dany demanded. He gave her a sharp look and the anger quickly vanished from her face. "You deserve to know, Jon. We _both_ do. Why haven't you asked him?"

"You don't think I haven't?" Jon questioned, exasperated. The identity of his mother was never far from his mind. Father promised to tell him when he was older, but here he was older and still unknowing. "What are you going to do?"

"Ask him," Dany answered, as if the task were simple enough. Despite the brave face, he noticed the reluctance in her eyes. He froze when she rested her head on his shoulder. "... What do you think Robb is doing?"

"No doubt dancing with a highborn girl," Jon guessed, ignoring his racing heart. She was so close, like that time in the godswood. He could smell her lavender oil and feel the warmth from her small frame.

"If we were there, would you dance with me?"

"You wouldn't mind dancing with a bastard?"

Dany moved her head to give him an annoyed look. He smiled despite the bitter twinge in his heart. It was frowned upon for highborn ladies to share dances with bastards. Dany _knew_ this yet she acted like Jon was no different from Robb.

"Yes, I would dance with you," Jon said, hoping to get rid of that displeased look on her face. "Only you."

"Even when I'm a dried up old crone, you would dance with me?"

Jon laughed loudly at that.

"I cannot imagine you as anything else but as how you are now," he admitted as his laughter quieted down.

"Would you, though?" she asked.

"Of course," Jon answered, then added in a decisive voice, "Always."

And that was no lie.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

It started normal—or as normal as it could get considering Theon Greyjoy was a ward living in a foreign land. The morning dawned clear and cold. He and twenty men had set forth at daybreak to see a man beheaded. Bran rode among them for the first time, finally deemed old enough to go with his father and brother to see the king's justice done. Theon rode with Lord Stark to beheadings from the time he was taken from his home at ten. By thirteen, he was handing the sword Ice to the executioner.

The beheading went on as usual, lacking its usual cries and curses from the men on the receiving end. Today it was a deserter from the Night's Watch, an old scrawny man. Lord Stark took off the man's head with a single stroke and the decapitated head rolled up near Theon's feet. He laughed at the man's giant eyes and kicked it away.

Often afterwards, they would return back to the castle, but today Snow called their attention to something. He shouted and waved down at them from the crest of the hill before them. Theon didn't hesitate to spur his black stallion Smiler over to where Snow and Robb had gone. They found Robb near the riverbank, knee-deep in snow and cradling something in his arms. Then Theon's eyes went to the thing on the ground.

"Gods!" Theon exclaimed, reaching for his sword. "What in the seven hells _is_ it?"

"A wolf," Robb told him.

"A freak," Theon said. "Look at the size of it."

Half-buried in bloodstained snow, a huge dark shape was slumped in death. Ice had formed in its shaggy grey fur and the smell of death clung to it. It was bigger than Bran's pony and twice the size of the largest hound in Stark's kennel.

"It's no freak," Snow said. The bruise Theon gave him faded by the time Robb returned from Riverrun. He wanted to give him another one. "That's a direwolf. They grow larger than the other kind."

Theon was not impressed. Snow liked to think he knew more than everyone, but he was still a green boy whether he liked it or not.

"There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years," he reminded the bastard.

"I see one now," Snow replied.

Robb, Snow, and Bran wanted to keep the pups, but Lord Stark was reluctant. Theon didn't blame him. Beasts like those belonged in the wild or dead before they could do harm. Despite much protest from their party, Lord Stark relented and allowed his boys to keep the five pups. When they were halfway across the bridge, Snow suddenly galloped back to where the dead direwolf lay dead in the snow and came back with a white direwolf in his arms.

"An albino," Theon said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others."

Snow gave him a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me."

Theon blinked back in surprise then glared at him. _Pompous bastard_ , he thought.

Returning to the castle of Winterfell, Theon followed Robb to the kitchens where they managed to frighten the servants with the beasts in their arms. Bran went to retrieve his sisters and little brother Rickon. Lady Stark and Daenerys returned with Bran as well, all of them gasping at the sight of the pups. Theon couldn't help but smirk when Daenerys came up to him.

"Are they...?" she began to ask, astonishment plain on her face.

"Direwolves, yes," he answered, crossing his arms. "Robb found them at the riverbank after the execution."

"And their mother?"

"Dead. Killed by a stag."

Daenerys was silent, watching the Starks argue over what to name their direwolves. Theon instead looked at her. He never cared much for her when they first met, believing girls were useless until he got older. Now that _she_ was getting older, Theon noticed that she was growing into an exquisite beauty. She was far more gentle than a dragon should be, but he sensed the defiance hidden inside her. That was arousing to him.

"There weren't enough for you to have one, Dany," Robb said, giving her an apologetic look.

"A Targaryen with a direwolf?" Theon laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. "That would be a sight."

"More than you with a squid?" she retorted, earning a quiet laugh from Snow.

"It's a kraken," he said brusquely.

"Oh, of course." Daenerys gave him an amused smile before walking back over to the pups.

Theon glared at her before slipping out of the kitchens. He didn't know what he was thinking, finding that brat alluring. She was no Kyra or Bessa who did whatever he pleased in bed. He wouldn't mind seeing them now. Pushing Daenerys and the Starks out of his mind, Theon headed for winter town.

* * *

It was only hours after receiving his invitation to Winterfell that Benjen Stark sought out Maester Aemon. He found the ancient man in the rookery feeding the ravens.

"Afternoon, maester," Ben said, "how are our ravens?"

"Well fed," replied Aemon. "Clydas, would you leave us?"

Clydas was an old man himself, but seemed young when next to Aemon. He put down his bucket of chopped meat and left them. Ben moved to stand beside Maester Aemon, watching the ravens peck at their meal.

"I came to see if you wanted me to deliver a message for your niece," Ben explained, watching the biggest raven in the cage devour the raw meat. "I've been invited to Winterfell. The king is coming."

"How considerate of you, Ben," Aemon said. He sat in pensive silence for a moment. "Do you think Baratheon will finish what he started?"

Ben's throat tightened. Memories of the rebellion flooded his mind. Robert never ordered the deaths of Elia and her children, but he never forgot what Ned told him. There was no remorse on Robert's face when the bodies were brought forward. Ben looked at the maester. No matter how long ago he took the black, Daenerys was still his family and he wouldn't want the girl to perish like the rest of his House.

"Eddard will protect her. He promised her mother that," Ben finally said.

_And Ned keeps his promises_ , he thought.

Aemon finished feeding the birds in silence. Once he completed his task, Ben helped him from the rookery to the adjoining solar. He led Ben to a cedar chest nearly hidden in the back of the room. After all the times he visited this solar, he never noticed it until now.

"Open that," the maester said. Ben did as he was told, crouching down to open the dusty chest. His breath was caught in his throat at the sight of what was inside.

"Where did you get these?" Ben asked, astounded.

"My nephew," Aemon answered and Ben did not need his name. "Before he was slain, he purchased them from a Volantene merchant. He must have known his fate because a year before the war, he sent Jon Connington to deliver this to me."

"And you want me to bring this to Daenerys?"

"She deserves them more than I do. Rhaegar was her brother," Aemon said softly. "I'll have Chett give you my letter once I finish it. You have my thanks, Benjen."

Ben nodded, taking one last look at the chest. He ignored the chill that settled inside him as he left.

* * *

When Catelyn told him that Robert was riding to Winterfell to see him, Ned couldn't help the smile that broke out across his face. The last he saw Robert was nine years ago during Balon Greyjoy's rebellion. Then he remembered Daenerys and his joy disappeared.

No man was more determined to obliterate House Targaryen than Robert. Rhaegar stole his bride and everyone else had to pay for it. Their friendship was nearly destroyed when Ned refused to hand over Daenerys. "You and your damn promises," Robert spat after Ned told him about Rhaella. When they met again to crush Greyjoy's rebellion, the enmity was still there between them but neither brought up his ward. By the time they were going their separate ways, Ned had hope for their friendship to return. Part of him wanted to believe that it could return, but he couldn't ignore Robert's hatred of the Targaryens. Robert would only see Daenerys as the Mad King's daughter and could order her death the moment he laid eyes on her.

Daenerys was more than a ward to him. She was like a daughter and Ned would protect her as he would his own blood.

"Uncle?" called Daenerys. She entered the glass garden where he waited for her. "Have any winter roses bloomed?"

"Come see." Ned led her to where the flowers grew. The winter roses and their sweet smell always reminded him of Lyanna. He pushed back painful memories of his sister and focused on Daenerys. She bent down to sniff the pale blue flower and smiled at him. Ned returned her smile then remembered why he called her here. "How do you feel about the king visiting?"

She stood and shrugged. "It's an honor to host the king, isn't it?"

"It is," Ned agreed, nodding. "Daenerys, I'm sending you to Castle Cerwyn during the king's visit."

Her violet eyes went wide. " _Why_?" she asked, the hurt in her voice only worsening Ned's guilt.

The moment Ned brought Daenerys to Winterfell, he made it known that _no one_ was to speak of her family. Not to each other, in passing, and certainly not _to_ her. He wanted her to grow up unburdened and that would have been impossible if she knew of her father's madness or brother's role in the rebellion. He feared the truth would only devastate her.

"The king and your brother were rivals and I believe your presence will remind him of that."

"Which brother?"

Ned looked at her, shocked. He only told her about Rhaegar, not Viserys. How did she— _Aemon_ , he realized. How much of the past did the maester reveal to her?

"Rhaegar," he answered stiffly.

"How could you not tell me about Viserys?" Daenerys questioned, anger rising in her voice. "Aemon thinks he's dead. Is he? Could you not bring him when you took me from Dragonstone?"

"I never told you about Viserys because I do not know if he's dead," Ned said, careful not to raise his own voice. He didn't want to frighten her because she had a right to be angry. "He was a child when you were born, but missing when I arrived at Dragonstone. I did not want to give you false hope if he's truly dead."

She turned away from him, but he caught the tears in her eyes. There was a tightness in her jaw, like she was forcing herself to stay silent.

"I understand your frustrations, but this is for the best," Ned continued gently.

"Am I excused?" Daenerys finally asked. He wished he could comfort her, but he didn't and instead watched her leave the glass garden.

_If she's out of Robert's sight, she will be out of his mind_ , advised Luwin. Ned hoped the maester was right.

* * *

Instead of joining everyone for dinner in the Great Hall, Dany hid in the godswood. She didn't see the point in pretending to eat when she lost her appetite earlier. The godswood was the only place she could be alone—even if only for a little while.

The king was coming and Ned decided she had to remain at Castle Cerwyn for the duration of it. He claimed this arrangement was for the best, but Dany wasn't naive. Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar were not simply rivals. There was something else to it and Ned refused to tell her. Just as he refused to tell her about Viserys. Her brother was out there and she couldn't stop thinking about him. Although Aemon was family, he belonged to the Night's Watch. Viserys was the only one left.

Dany froze at the sound of twigs cracking. She wiped away her tears and was relieved when it was only Jon. His pup Ghost wasn't far behind. He didn't make a sound when Dany scooped him into her arms.

"You missed dinner," Jon said as he joined her on the ground. "Are you well?"

"Did he not announce it?" Dany asked, petting Ghost as the pup got comfortable in her lap. Jon frowned at her. "He told me that I am to stay at Castle Cerwyn while the king visits."

"Why would he do that?" Jon questioned. She shook her head, unable to answer. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Dany looked at him, searching his dark eyes to see if he meant it. He would miss meeting the royal family for her? Heat rushed to her face as she kept staring at him, wanting to push the lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes. Serving maids found Jon unapproachable, but not everyone got to see him smile. It was the genuine kind of smile that softened his somber face. Her heart fluttered and Dany finally broke their gaze to focus on the small pool before them.

"Don't miss out because of me," Dany eventually replied. "I have Cley to keep me company. He isn't offended by my presence."

"The king doesn't sound like the man Father made him to be if he's afraid of you," Jon remarked.

He made a fair point. What sort of threat could Dany pose to Robert Baratheon? Robb liked to tease her about her height and petite frame, so she couldn't physically harm the king. Then there was her lack of possessions. Everything she owned were gifts from the Starks. There were so many questions she had and it seemed only her great-great uncle could answer them. At least she had Jon by her side.

Impulsively, Dany leaned forward to kiss Jon on the cheek.

When she sat back, Jon's cheeks were tinged pink. "What was that for?"

"Because I wanted to," she answered, wondering if her own face was red. "I... thank you, Jon."

His eyes widened but then that smile she loved so much slowly spread across his face. He nodded and turned away from her, still smiling shyly. Dany held Ghost close as they sat in silence, watching the sun disappear below the horizon together.

* * *

Cersei Lannister detested the north.

There was nothing here in this bleak land except bogs and forest and fields. She hadn't seen a soul as they traveled to Winterfell and found none of the inns acceptable. Then there was her dwarf brother tagging along. He had an awful habit of inserting himself when unwanted. The worst thing was Robert's _merriness_ throughout their trip, his excitement tripling the closer they drew to Winterfell. He didn't even notice her discomfort throughout the entire ordeal.

The wheelhouse slowed and Cersei realized they were to stay in another inn. She opened her mouth to protest as she flung the door open, but Jaime touched her hand, silencing her.

"His Grace says this is the last inn we'll be staying in until we reach Winterfell," he told her, watching Myrcella and Tommen leap out. Joffrey took his time stepping out of the wheelhouse, surveying his surroundings. "No need to get yourself worked up, sweet sister."

"I'd rather we keep moving than stay in another shoddy inn," Cersei replied sharply. She frowned as Myrcella and Tommen ran around like wildlings.

Jaime followed her gaze and smiled at them. "I remember when we were children and we'd jump off the cliffs of Casterly Rock. Those were good times."

She remembered when she was a child, how she would spend her days swimming in the ocean with Jaime or playing with her porcelain dolls. The memory of seeing Rhaegar Targaryen play his silver-stringed harp and hearing that heartbreaking song triumphed all others. Had a man ever been so beautiful? She was ten when she finally met her silver prince and wept when she heard him play for the first time. There was a sadness in his eyes and Cersei silently promised she would be the one to heal him once she became his queen.

_Aye. Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear_ , a familiar voice croaked.

She thought of Daenerys Targaryen and quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way it would be _her_. The thought of meeting Mad Aerys's daughter brought a cold, unsettling feeling inside Cersei. She was curious of course. Did the girl inherit the Targaryen madness or her brother's brilliance? Was she truly the one Maggy the Frog spoke of all those years ago? Cersei refused to believe it or the rest of the old woman's supposed prophecy. But if it _was_...

_The girl shall learn her place_ , Cersei decided.

Later that night when she and Robert were settled in their room, Cersei swallowed back her revulsion and straddled his lap. Her quick movement surprised him yet he didn't question it. Instead Robert grinned when she reached between them and stroked him until he was hard around her fingers. He seemed to have forgotten all those other times she dismissed him every time he tried to pry her legs apart. Men were all the same when a woman came to them wet and willing.

If this were any other night when Robert wanted her and not some whore, Cersei would have closed her eyes and pretended it was Rhaegar inside her. Jaime knew how to work her body better than anyone else, but she could have him whenever she wanted. She couldn't have Rhaegar.

"What are your plans for the Targaryen girl?" Cersei asked as she rolled her hips, earning a groan from Robert.

"Nothing," he grunted, grabbing her hips to pull her close until her breasts were in his face. He used his teeth to pull the straps of her shift down. "I don't want her... in my sight."

He tried to kiss her, but Cersei tilted her head so his lips met her throat instead. "Why not? You could show her that you _own_ her. Bring her before everyone and—"

Robert's hand around her neck kept her from continuing her sentence. She tried to pull his hand off, but his thick fingers were so tight. Cersei could hardly breathe and she slapped his arm until he shoved her off him, finally letting go. She gasped for air as she touched her neck, knowing a bruise would form by the morrow. Cersei glared at Robert, refusing to hide her hatred.

"I. Do. Not. Want. Her. In. My. _Sight_ ," repeated Robert. There was an edge to his voice, one Cersei knew not to test. He was an idiot, but he was still one of the strongest men in the realm. "This is why I do not fuck you, Cersei. You always want something."

Cersei bristled at his words. It took an enormous amount of strength not to challenge him. Letting go of her neck, she slowly sat up and nodded. "My apologies, Robert. I should have... known better."

The fierceness of his scowl lessened. He tried to touch her, but kept his distance when she stiffened. Thankfully, he didn't demand she finish what they began and went to sleep. Cersei slept beside him, dreaming that he died on the Trident instead of Rhaegar. When she woke, she thought of Daenerys again. Robert wouldn't kill her unless he wanted to lose his dear Eddard Stark. There was still a chance to teach the girl her place.

It was the first time since their trip began that Cersei smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

It was well into the fourth hour of the welcoming feast that Benjen finally left the table.

He managed to remain cordial with the visitors, smiling and laughing with everyone, but there was only so much of the Lannisters he could take. Ben believed his brother was having a harder time enjoying the festivities than him. He felt a little guilty getting up and leaving Ned, but he wanted to see how Jon was doing. It was odd that Jon wasn't seated with the rest of his brothers and sisters.

Jon seemed to be having a better time than him and Ned. He sat with the younger squires at the end of the hall, grinning and holding a wine cup in his hand. Ben saw a white pup sitting near Jon's legs underneath the table, ripping into a chicken carcass.

"Is this one of the direwolves I've heard so much of?" Ben asked, placing his hand on Jon's head. He looked up as Ben ruffled his hair.

"Yes," answered Jon. His face was flushed and he was smiling. "His name is Ghost."

One of the squires interrupted the bawdy tale he'd been telling to make room for Ben. He straddled the bench and took the wine cup from Jon's hand.

"Summerwine," he said after a taste. _This_ was why his nephew was so happy. "Nothing so sweet. How many cups have you had, Jon?"

Jon smiled.

Ben laughed. "As I feared. Ah, well. I believe I was younger than you the first time I got truly and sincerely drunk." He snagged a roasted onion from a nearby trencher and bit into it. "A very quiet wolf," he observed.

"He's not like the others," Jon said, sounding almost proud. "He never makes a sound. That's why I named him Ghost. That, and because he's white. The others are all dark, grey, or black."

"There are still direwolves beyond the Wall. We hear them on our rangings." Ben gave his nephew a long look. "Don't you usually eat at the table with your brothers and sisters?"

"Most times," Jon said flatly. "But tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard among them."

"I see." Ben wasn't surprised by Catelyn's choice to hide Jon. She only did it to protect her family. One small misstep around the Lannisters and House Stark could be gone like the Targaryens. "Where's your friend?"

"Dany?" His eyes went wide and he quickly ducked his head. Jon bent down to scratch his wolf behind the ears. Ben raised his eyebrows yet smiled. He wondered if she felt the same. "Father sent her to Castle Cerwyn so the king wouldn't see her."

"Hmm." Ben understood that as well. He glanced over where Ned sat. There was a tightness to his posture as he observed the courtesies. "My brother doesn't seem very festive tonight."

"The queen is angry too," Jon said quietly. "Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The queen didn't want him to go."

He gave Jon a careful, measuring look. "You don't miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall."

Jon beamed. "Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I'm the better sword."

"Notable achievements."

"Take me with you when you go back to the Wall," Jon suddenly said. Ben's smile slipped from his face. "Father will give me leave to go if you ask him, I know he will."

Although he expected this day to come, Ben was still stunned to hear it. His compliment hadn't been an invitation to take the black. He studied Jon's face, his heart breaking from how _young_ he was. "The Wall is a hard place for a boy, Jon."

"I'm almost a man grown," Jon protested and Ben almost laughed at that. He believed the same thing when he was Jon's age. "I will turn sixteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children."

"That's true enough," Benjen admitted, frowning.

Jon straightened on the bench. "I want to serve the Night's Watch, Uncle."

"You don't know what you're asking, Jon. The Night's Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor."

"A bastard can have honor too," Jon insisted. "I'm ready to swear your oath."

_No, you are not_ , thought Ben.

"You are a boy of fifteen," he said slowly. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't... I don't care about that," Jon stammered, blushing.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Ben said, wishing he could shake some sense into Jon. "Although it seems you might already, son."

Jon glared at him. "I'm _not_ your son!"

"More's the pity." He sighed and stood up, putting a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel."

It was a cruel thing to say, but the Night's Watch wasn't a nurturing place. The men there would say much worse if Jon decided to join. Still, Ben wished he could take back his words when he saw Jon tremble with rage. He forgot the boy was drunk and probably didn't mean half of what he said.

"I will never father a bastard. _Never_!"

The silence at the table was deafening. Everyone was looking at Jon. Excusing himself, Jon stumbled into a serving girl and sent a flagon of wine crashing to the floor. Ben tried to steady him, but Jon twisted himself out of his grasp and ran out of the Great Hall. He didn't follow, knowing Jon needed his space. Sighing, Ben returned to his seat with the others. He caught Ned's eye as he sat down.

Ned leaned over to Robert who was laughing loudly. Whatever Ned said, Robert didn't seem to care and merely waved him off, still laughing. Ned stood and gestured for Ben to follow him. They didn't go out the same doors as Jon did, but instead to the exit leading to a dimly-lit gallery.

"You're welcome for saving you," Ben said once they were alone. "You could try and look less miserable."

"No one's paying attention to me. All that matters is if Robert's happy," Ned retorted, crossing his arms.

"Jon noticed," he said and Ned looked at him, frowning. "He says he wants to join the Night's Watch."

Ned stared at him, stunned. "He does not mean that."

"He's quite adamant about it."

He remained silent. Ben hoped he wasn't considering letting Jon do this.

"He wants to have honor, Ned. There are other ways to achieve that than taking the black," Ben began tentatively. Ned met his eyes, realization dawning on his face as he understood what Ben meant.

"We worship the old gods," Ned reminded him.

"And he still can. Robb and Jon are close. If Jon becomes a knight, he could become Robb's castellan. He may even have his own land if he desires." Ben recalled the betrayal on his nephew's face. "He wouldn't have to sacrifice so much."

"And even a bastard may rise high as a knight," reflected Ned. He looked at Ben, relief plain on his face. "I'll see who's in need of a squire."

"Just don't send him to Bolton," he quickly said, earning a grimace from Ned. "For what it's worth... Jon would have done great service on the Wall."

"I know." Ned smiled for the first time tonight. He sighed heavily and returned inside to resume his lordly duties. Ben stayed out longer, enjoying the solitude before heading back inside.

* * *

Unbeknownst to everyone, Daenerys had returned to Winterfell in the midst of the feast.

The queen wanted to have afternoon tea the following day, so Dany had to ride back to Winterfell. It was only half a day's ride from Castle Cerwyn, so she didn't arrive until the evening when the feast already began. Maester Luwin met her at the gates and led her to her chambers. He brought her food, but Dany couldn't eat. She didn't think she slept either. It was only her nerves that kept her awake now.

Sansa and Arya tried to talk to her, but couldn't with their mother making certain they were dressed immaculately for their lessons. Princess Myrcella was to join them. Sansa did manage to pick out a gown for Dany, one that would bring out the violet in her eyes. It was of deep plum velvet, and she'd only worn it once when Lord Hornwood and his wife Lady Donella came to visit. Lady Donella had complimented her gown. Hopefully the queen would find it acceptable. Lady Stark seemed to agree it was the right one to wear for this occasion.

"It's such an honor to have tea with the queen," proclaimed Sansa, smiling widely. "You're so lucky, Dany!"

Dany wished she shared some of Sansa's enthusiasm. If she could, she'd just have Sansa take her place. Dany didn't understand what the queen wanted from her. Afternoon tea sounded innocuous, but not after she was sent away so not to disturb the king's presence. Did the king know she was here? What would he do if he saw her? Her throat tightened and she wanted nothing more than for the visitors to leave so everything would go back to normal.

"That she is. You remember your manners, don't you, Daenerys?" questioned Lady Stark. Dany looked away from the vanity to give a shaky nod. "You remember your manners as well, Arya?"

Arya grunted from the floor where she sat with her pup Nymeria.

"Arya, _please_ brush your hair," Lady Stark said and handed her a brush. Arya reluctantly took it. "Do you need help braiding your hair, Daenerys?"

"I can do it." Dany preferred combing and braiding her own hair. The maids used to pull her hair when combing out the snags when she was younger. Sometimes she thought they did it on purpose. Ned looked disappointed when she told him that.

She was nearly finished braiding her hair when Arya and Sansa left for their lessons. Each hugged her goodbye as they hurried out. Lady Stark remained, likely to escort her to the queen. Dany sighed when she was done, her fingers cramping from adorning her loose hair with ornate braids. She sat still when Lady Stark came behind her and placed her hands on Dany's shoulders. They stared at their reflections in the vanity looking glass for a moment.

"You look beautiful," she said, smiling softly. This was the first time Dany felt something akin to affection from her. Lady Stark wasn't cold to her as she was with Jon, but she wasn't warm either. She was perfectly polite, as if Dany were a guest that would never leave. "You will do fine."

Squeezing her shoulders, Lady Stark stepped back and led her to the Guest House where the queen waited. Guarding her door was the most beautiful man Dany had ever seen. He was tall and blond, with sharp green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. The man saw Dany and recognition flickered across his face. Did he know her? She certainly didn't know him. Perhaps they met when she was a baby. Could he have been with Ned when he took her from Dragonstone?

"Ser Jaime," greeted Lady Stark, nodding once.

"Hello, Lady Stark," said Ser Jaime. He turned to Dany and they stared at one another. He looked ready to say something, but opened the door instead. "Cersei, the Lady Daenerys has arrived."

The moment Dany saw the queen, she knew that Ser Jaime was her twin. She had the same golden blonde hair, green eyes, and staggering beauty as him. Dany always found Lady Stark to be a great beauty, but Queen Cersei was possibly even greater.

"Thank you for joining me, Daenerys," said Queen Cersei, guiding her inside. Remembering Septa Mordane's lessons, Dany curtseyed. "And thank you, Lady Catelyn, for escorting her."

"It was my pleasure," replied Lady Stark. Ser Jaime shut the door, leaving Dany alone with the queen.

Queen Cersei smiled graciously at her and she felt a little at ease. "Shall we begin?"

Settling at the table where tea and pastries awaited them, Dany didn't drink until the queen did. The tea was warm and helped calm her nerves. She was reluctant to touch the pastries, afraid she couldn't hold it down and embarrass herself in front of the queen.

"Where's your jewelry, sweetling?" asked Queen Cersei.

"Oh." Dany glanced down at herself. Her wrists, neck, and ears were bare of any jewelry. "I don't own much jewelry."

"What a pity. Gold would look lovely with that gown. Velvet?" She touched the fabric then suddenly stood. "I have some bracelets that would match. Let me find them."

"That's kind of you to offer, Your Grace, but..." Dany couldn't believe the queen was letting her try on her bracelets. She straightened on the bench when Queen Cersei returned. Dany held her breath as the queen slid golden bracelets crusted with amethysts around her wrists. "So beautiful... Thank you, Your Grace."

"I prefer rubies and emeralds. Now, tell me about yourself."

Dany obeyed and told the queen how she liked to go riding when the weather wasn't so cold outside. If it was too cold, she preferred reading in the library. She enjoyed hearing stories and songs about heroes and knights going on adventures for their lady loves.

"Do you play any instruments?" the queen asked. She smiled when Dany shook her head. "Your brother could play the harp. The night we met he played his harp and had me and every other woman weeping. You know, you and I were almost good-sisters."

"You... you were betrothed to Rhaegar?" Dany's heart pounded in her chest. What she knew of Rhaegar came from Aemon and it wasn't much. He might have told her more in the letter Benjen brought along with that mysterious chest. If the queen nearly wed her brother then she must have _known_ him.

"Mmm." Queen Cersei took a bite out of her lemon cake. "We met at the tournament in honor of Viserys's birth, held in Lannisport. I was ten at the time and your brother seventeen. The smallfolk cheered for my father twice as loudly as they cheered the king, but only half as loudly as they cheered Prince Rhaegar. He defeated two of my uncles and a dozen of my father's finest knights. He would have won had Ser Arthur Dayne not bested him."

Pride swelled up inside Dany. Her brother was the perfect prince, so why did Ned refuse to tell her anything about him? "But why aren't we good-sisters?" she asked tentatively.

"Because your father rejected me. The Hand's daughter is too low of a match for the crown prince," answered Queen Cersei, her smile bitter.

"But... you're so beautiful," Dany said, regarding the queen. She was unable to comprehend it.

"I believe had he married me, he wouldn't have looked twice at Lyanna."

Her words took a minute to sink in and when it did, a chill went through Dany's body. Lyanna Stark was dead. She'd seen her tomb in the crypts. Her brother never married Lyanna. It wasn't possible. Ned would have _told_ her. She remembered how he kept Viserys from her and realized perhaps he wouldn't have told her. Tears came unbidden to Dany's eyes.

"You didn't know?"

"Know... know what, Your Grace?"

"That Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna. It's why Robert killed him. Your brother stole his bride. I thought Rhaegar would prevail but..."

There was a ringing in her ears, so loud it drowned out the queen's voice. Dany didn't want to believe anything Queen Cersei was saying. Rhaegar couldn't... _wouldn't_ have kidnapped anyone. Then Lyanna was betrothed to another, the _king_. Ned lied. Her brother and the king weren't mere rivals. They were enemies. Her heart wrenched in her chest when she remembered that Lyanna was Ned's sister. How could he even look at Dany? How could he have decided she was worth raising alongside his children? How could he love her?

"Do not cry for them, sweetling," she heard the queen say. "Lyanna made her choice when she let Rhaegar take her. So did your father when he chose Elia Martell over me. But it is a pity we never did become good-sisters."

"Yes, it is," Dany agreed faintly. It wasn't pity she felt but grief. "Thank you for telling me, Your Grace."

The queen stared at her, a surprised look on her face. It became a frown and Dany wasn't sure if she said something wrong. Finally, the queen smiled but it was so clearly false it made her nervous.

"Of course," Queen Cersei eventually said.

* * *

Arya Stark knew she was in trouble the second she bolted for the door.

She didn't care. Arya was always in trouble, but there was no way she could stay in that room any longer. Not when Jeyne Poole smirked at her crooked stitches or Princess Myrcella looking sorry for her. She ran down the steps as fast as she could, her tears drying from the wind brushing against her wet cheeks.

Nymeria waited for her in the guardroom at the base of the stairs. Her wolf pup loved her, even if no one else did. They went everywhere together, and if Mother hadn't forbidden it, she would have gladly taken the wolf with her to needlework. Arya didn't expect to find Dany playing with Nymeria. It wasn't until her pup came bounding over that Dany looked up and saw her.

"Hi, Dany," Arya said, walking over to the older girl. She frowned when she noticed the tear stains on Dany's face. "Why are you crying?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, getting to her feet. Tea with the queen must have gone as well as Arya's needlework. "What's the matter?"

"My stitches were crooked," mumbled Arya, untying Nymeria. "And Septa Mordane showed _everyone_ and they were all looking at me. It isn't fair. How come Sansa is so perfect at everything and I'm just..."

Sansa could sew, sing, and dance. She could write poetry, play the high harp _and_ the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's Tully's looks, complete with the high cheekbones and thick, auburn hair. Arya took after their lord father, with the Stark long face and dark brown hair. At least Dany never flaunted her looks like Sansa or made fun of Arya for not being as beautiful as them. Sometimes it seemed Dany didn't even _care_ that she was the prettiest girl in Winterfell.

"I'm just Arya Horseface," she finished feebly, remembering the nickname. Jeyne used to call her that, and would neigh whenever she came near until Dany made her stop.

"Arya," Dany began gently, "you are more than just that silly name. You ride like a centurion and make friends easily. You are strong and willful, like Daena the Defiant. When you grow older, you will learn so many things, things more important that needlework that no one would dare call you Arya Horseface, but Able Arya."

Able Arya. She liked that name. It was the nicest thing anyone ever called her. Dany pulled her into a hug and Arya eagerly wrapped her arms around her. She wished Dany could be her sister instead of Sansa.

"Septa Mordane and Mother will find me if I go back to our room," Arya said when they pulled away. "We should go to the yard!"

"I don't know..." Dany was hesitant.

"Don't you want to see Robb put Joffrey flat on his back?" Arya asked, earning a surprised laugh from Dany. She took the other girl's hand and led the way to the yard. There was a window in the covered bridge between the armory and the Great Keep where they would have a view of the whole yard.

Jon was seated on the sill, one leg drawn up languidly to his chin. He was so absorbed in the action he didn't notice them approaching until his white wolf moved to meet them. Ghost was already the largest of his litter mates, and sniffed and nipped at his sister before settling back down.

He gave Arya a curious look. "Shouldn't you be working on your stitches?"

She made a face at him. "I wanted to see them fight."

"Come here, then," Jon said, smiling. Arya climbed up on the window and sat beside him. His eyes went to Dany. They stared at one another for a moment, but he didn't say anything to her as she climbed the window and sat next to Arya. She noticed they did that often. Jon and Dany would look at each other silently, as if they could read each other's thoughts.

To her disappointment, it was the younger boys drilling. Bran was so heavily padded he looked like he had belted on a featherbed. Prince Tommen, already plump to begin with, seemed positively round. They were huffing and puffing, hitting each other with padded wooden swords under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel. Robb was the loudest among the dozen spectators, and Arya spotted Theon beside him with wry contempt on his face.

"A shade more exhausting than needlework," Jon commented dryly.

"A shade more fun than needlework," Arya fired back. Jon grinned and reached over to tousle her hair. They had always been close. She and Jon were the only ones that had their father's face. "Why aren't you down in the yard?"

"Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes," he answered, giving her half a smile. "Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords."

"Oh." Arya felt abashed.

"Or they're afraid you'll put them to shame," replied Dany, leaning forward to look at Jon.

"Perhaps," he said, laughing.

They watched Bran whack at Tommen. "I could do just as good as Bran," Arya declared. "He's only seven. I'm nine."

"You're too skinny," Jon remarked the same time Dany said, "You'd hurt him."

After sharing a grin with Dany, Jon took Arya's arm and felt her muscle. Then he sighed and shook his head. "I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one."

She snatched back her arm and glared at him, but he merely tousled her hair again. They returned to watching Bran and Prince Tommen circle each other.

"You see Prince Joffrey?" Jon asked them.

Arya hadn't, but she found him leaning against the shaded high stone wall. He was surrounded by men she didn't recognize. Jon mentioned his surcoat, and Arya looked to see an ornate shield embroidered on the prince's padded surcoat. It was more exquisite than Sansa's work. The arms were divided down the middle; on one side was the crowned stag of the royal House, on the other the lion of Lannister.

"The Lannisters are proud," Jon observed. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but he makes his mother's House equal to honor the king's."

"Women are important too!" Arya protested, and Dany slapped his arm.

He chuckled at their reaction. "Perhaps you should do the same thing. Wed Tully to Stark in your arms."

"A wolf with a fish in its mouth?" Arya laughed. "That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"

Jon shrugged. "Girls get the arms, but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I didn't make the rules."

"Queen Visenya had both," Dany reminded them.

"She had dragons," Jon pointed out. "No one would dare say no to her."

Dany rolled her eyes. There was a shout from the courtyard below, drawing their attention. Prince Tommen was rolling in the dust, trying to get up to no avail. Bran was standing over him with an upraised wooden sword, ready to whack him again once he regained his feet. The men began to laugh.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik called out. He gave the prince a hand and yanked him back to his feet. "Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor. Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

Robb, drenched in sweat, moved forward eagerly. "Gladly."

Prince Joffrey stepped into the sunlight. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

Theon let out a sudden bark of laughter. "You are children," he said derisively.

"Robb may be a child," Prince Joffrey drawled, "but I am a prince, and I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff," Robb retorted. "Are you afraid?"

"Oh, terrified," he mocked, looking at him. "You are so much older."

Some of the Lannister men laughed. Jon frowned as he watched the scene. "Joffrey is truly a little shit," he remarked.

Ser Rodrik tugged thoughtfully at his white whiskers. "What are you suggesting?" he asked the prince.

"Live steel."

"Done," Robb accepted. "You'll be sorry!"

The master-at-arms put a hand on Robb's broad shoulder. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges."

Joffrey said nothing, but a muscled man with black hair and burn scars on his face pushed forward. "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it."

"Are you training women here?" the burned man, Clegane, demanded.

"I am training _knights_ ," Ser Rodrik answered scathingly. "They will have live steel when they're ready. When they are of age."

"Is that the Targaryen girl?" Joffrey's question interrupted the quarrel. He was staring right at the window sill where they sat. "What's her name? Fetch her for me, dog."

Clegane moved forward, but Dany shouted, "I'll be right down!"

She climbed down off the window. Jon hurried after her, grabbing her arm. "You don't have to go down there."

"He's the crown prince, Jon," Dany said softly. "I have to."

Jon reluctantly let go of her arm and watched her leave. "What's going to happen, Jon?" Arya asked, glancing worriedly at the yard where Joffrey waited.

"Something bad," Jon said, his attention solely on Joffrey.

Everyone waited in anticipation for Dany to arrive. She approached Joffrey and the burned man slowly. Gracing the prince with a curtsey, she introduced herself as Daenerys Targaryen.

"You don't seem mad," said Joffrey, appraising her. "But Pycelle says madness can come about later in life."

"Why would I be mad?" questioned Dany. Arya wondered the same thing.

"Because your father's the Mad King," Joffrey replied, like she was stupid.

"... My father wasn't mad," Dany said faintly.

Anger flashed in Joffrey's eyes. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Dany never answered. Robb spoke instead. "Why are you wasting our time, Joffrey? Are we fighting or not?" he shouted.

"Say you're the Mad King's daughter," Joffrey demanded.

"No," she said. Her voice wasn't loud but there was an edge to it, one Arya never heard before.

"Say it or you'll meet the sharp end of my uncle's sword like your father. He's called the Kingslayer for a reason."

Arya gasped when Dany's rigid posture went slack and she began falling sideways. Ser Rodrik rushed forward to catch Dany, but it was Clegane who caught her. Jon leaped from the window and ran down to the yard, his wolf a white blur behind him. Joffrey watched the entire thing with a cruel smile on his face. Robb must have noticed because he suddenly began cursing at him. Theon seized Robb's arm to keep him away from the prince.

"Come, Tommen," drawled Joffrey, turning to his younger brother. "The hour of play is done. Leave the children to their frolics."

It wasn't until the princes and their party left the yard that Arya made her way to the others. She bit her lip, knowing this was her fault. If she hadn't insisted they go to the yard, Joffrey wouldn't have noticed Dany and said those awful things to her. Arya didn't even notice Bran come close until he touched her arm.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Bran asked, concerned.

"She will," Arya answered, but she was unsure with the way Jon was fretting and Robb cursing at Joffrey.

She was going to make this up to Dany, on her honor as a Stark.

* * *

It didn't take long for Ned to hear about the eventful day his children had. Disrespecting septas and swearing at princes, Catelyn couldn't believe it but Ned could. Starks were thought to have cold water instead of blood in their veins, but in truth they had the wolf blood. Some showed it more than others, like Arya and evidently Robb. He doubted Robert would care for their behavior. What he was more concerned about was Daenerys.

Ned knew it was a terrible idea for Daenerys to leave Castle Cerwyn. Catelyn urged him not to deny Cersei Lannister's request and he listened. Now Daenerys was in her room, recovering from a fainting spell. She didn't even notice him enter her room.

"Daenerys," Ned called, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She raised her head and looked at him with bleary purple eyes. "Are you feeling better?"

"Maester Luwin made me eat. He says it's why I fainted," said Daenerys, sitting up and drawing her knees up to her chest. "... Why did you take me from Dragonstone?"

"Because I promised your mother that I'd take care of you," Ned answered, frowning. He didn't expect for her to start crying. "Daenerys, tell me what's wrong."

"But _why_?" she asked, her voice thick with despair. "Why would you do that after my brother kidnapped your sister?"

Her words were a blow to the face. This was the reason why he kept her family's secret hidden. Ned couldn't stand seeing any of his children upset. He took Daenerys's small hands and held them gently. Catelyn called her a woman, but all Ned saw was a child.

"When I look at you, I don't see your brother," he said evenly. "I saw a babe without a pack. You are Targaryen, but you are still my blood."

He didn't hesitate to pull her into an embrace when she began to sob. Ned rubbed her back, trying to soothe her pain. He closed his eyes and waited for her sobs to quiet down. Even when they finally dwindled, he still held her in his arms. It was Daenerys who pulled away first and she smiled weakly at him. Ned smiled back then noticed the cedar chest across the room.

"Have you looked inside?" he asked, gesturing to the chest.

"I haven't had time," Daenerys replied, wiping her eyes. "Have you?"

Ned shook his head. He would have, but he'd been busy preparing Winterfell for the visitors. Benjen never told him what was inside. "Shall we have a look?"

Getting off the bed, they went over to the chest. Daenerys got down to her knees to open it. Ned's eyes widened. Daenerys gasped. Nestled in piles of the finest velvets he'd ever seen were three huge eggs. He expected them to be made of porcelain or delicate enamel, but realized they were heavier when Daenerys needed two hands to hold one. The one she picked up was covered with tiny scales, shimmering like polished metal in the light of the brazier. It was deep green with burnished bronze flecks. Another was pale cream streaked with gold. The last was black, as black as a midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and swirls.

"Are these...?" Daenerys looked at Ned, her voice full of awe.

"Dragon's eggs," Ned said, completely shocked. They looked at each other in astonishment.


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

Days had passed since that incident in the yard and Robb was still irate over it. Joffrey hadn't been much company during the welcoming feast, but he thought the prince would be friendlier once they practiced in the yard. Robb shouldn't have expected anything from the little shit.

"That was absolute horseshit," Robb said angrily. "He's fucking atrocious with the sword, but acts as if he's his uncle. Even Bran can knock his arse on the ground. Gods, who does Joffrey think he is?"

"The crown prince," answered Jon dryly. He sat by the black pool, one leg drawn up to his chin while the other was stretched out over the grass.

"Fuck the crown prince. He's lucky we didn't use live steel," Robb snapped. He slammed his fist into the bark of the weirwood tree. If it weren't for that title then he wouldn't have held back. "And those things he said to Dany. I wanted to kill him, Jon."

"I know." Jon went quiet. "She didn't deserve that."

Robb hadn't seen Dany since that day in the yard. She hid from the royal family in her room or the library. He heard she had tea with the queen, but it seemed that it hadn't gone well according to Arya. Then there was Joffrey. Robb wanted to punch the smirk right off his face. He worried for his siblings. Sansa, Arya, and Bran were to leave for the south with Father where he was to become the king's Hand. Robb had a feeling Joffrey would torment them and Father wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

_They'll be fine_ , thought Robb. He turned away from the weirwood tree to look at Jon. His brother stared at the black pool, his face contemplative. He was always so serious, but this time he had a reason for it.

"Hey." Robb kicked Jon's leg. "Are you nervous about leaving?"

"... A little," Jon admitted, still not looking at him.

Robb couldn't understand why Jon was nervous. Father wrote to Lord Wyman Manderly to ask if his sons needed a squire. His second son Ser Wendel did, so now Jon was to leave for White Harbor at the same time as Father and the others. Uncle Benjen even offered to escort him there. Jon would become a _knight_. What was so wrong with that?

"Well, don't be. You're going to make an excellent knight," Robb said, smiling.

"Do you think so?"

"I _know_ so... Now come on. Let's go practice in the yard. I feel knocking you on your arse."

Jon let out a surprised laugh then shoved Robb as he got to his feet. Grinning, he shoved Jon back and they raced their way over to the yard.

* * *

Tyrion Lannister felt as if he returned home from a long trip the moment he entered the warm library of Winterfell. He found comfort in libraries. From tales of mythical creatures to retellings of historical events, Tyrion often found himself nose deep in a new book.

"Oh." Tyrion blinked in surprise when he saw a girl sitting on a bench. She read from a heavy book, resting her chin in her palm. Her hair was bound in a silver-gold braid and her eyes were the same shade as violets. Those two distinct features only confirmed who Tyrion was staring at.

Ever since Tyrion heard of the Dragon Princess, he wanted to meet her. He'd been disappointed, but not surprised that she wasn't at the welcoming feast. Then he heard about her afternoon tea with Cersei and couldn't believe it. Tyrion wondered if his sister saw the girl as a threat and decided to torment her. Jaime must have been guarding her door. Did she freeze at the sight of her father's killer?

Daenerys Targaryen finally noticed him. She immediately climbed off the bench.

"Don't leave on my intrusion," Tyrion hastily said. She paused. "I assure you, I'm not here to trouble you. I only wish to read."

Her eyes, such an unusual color, were fixed on him. The distrust was plain on her face, a face that Tyrion could easily understand why Cersei would rage with envy. Still, he understood her wariness. He was a Lannister after all. Much to his relief, she slowly lowered herself back on the bench and resumed reading.

He stayed in the same area, too curious to leave. When would he ever get another chance to be this close with a true Targaryen? Tyrion busied himself with finding an interesting read, settling on a hundred-year-old discourse on the changing of the seasons by a long dead maester. He hefted the heavy, leather-bound book over to the same table where Daenerys sat, noticing her stiffen as he joined her.

"I'm Tyrion Lannister," he introduced, offering her a smile.

"That makes you the queen's brother," said Daenerys. Suspicion colored her tone. It made Tyrion's smile falter. "... Daenerys Stormborn."

"Stormborn?" he repeated.

"For the storm that raged Dragonstone during my birth," she answered then returned to her book without another word.

He tried to focus on the words in the text, but couldn't. There was no point in pretending. "Have the Starks treated you well?" Tyrion questioned.

"Yes. Why wouldn't they?" Daenerys asked, looking up with a frown.

"Because..." Tyrion noticed the genuine confusion on her face and quickly closed his mouth. Did she not know? How could she grow up unaware of how entangled the Starks were with the rebellion? "What are you reading?" he asked instead, not wanting to endure Eddard Stark's cold wrath.

" _The Conquest of Dorne_ ," she answered warily.

"Ah. I've read that one."

"Maester Luwin says he overstated his conquest."

"He was fourteen when he was crowned. Of course he would overstate his conquest."

The corners of her mouth curved upwards, just shy of a smile. She was a lovely girl, but that wasn't surprising. Targaryens were known for their beauty as well as their madness. Daenerys went back to reading and Tyrion did the same.

* * *

It was the first time since the visitors arrived that Winterfell was quiet.

The king wanted wild boar at the feast tonight, so he and most of the men in the castle had ridden out to hunt. Tomorrow they were leaving and taking Ned, Sansa, Arya, and Bran with them. Dany was finally free to roam the castle and wondered if it would feel this empty when everyone was gone. She felt guilty for not spending more time with the girls or Bran, but she couldn't ignore the crypts calling for her. Ever since the queen told her about Rhaegar and Lyanna, Dany felt this inexplicable pull towards the crypts where Lyanna rested.

Old Nan's stories crept into my mind as she approached the oldest part of the castle. She liked Old Nan and her stories, even if they scared her sometimes. When Dany pushed open the ironwood door, fear struck her as she stared at the stairs descending into darkness. She hesitated for a moment then forced herself down the winding, narrow stone steps with a lantern in hand. Dany shivered when she entered the darkness of the crypt. Her skin prickled with goose pimples as she walked between the pillars. It was colder down here than anywhere else in Winterfell, but it was the Lords of Winterfell that frightened her. In long rows the stone figures sat, their unforgiving faces staring into the darkness.

Finally, Dany made it to Lyanna. Her tomb was beside Lord Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark, her father and brother. She stared up at Ned's sister. This was the woman who launched a war? Even made of stone, Lyanna was beautiful. Still, it didn't make sense why her brother would kidnap her. He was married to Elia Martell and Lyanna was betrothed to Robert Baratheon. _Were they in love?_ Dany wondered. Aemon might know. She needed to finish her letter for him before Benjen left. Knowing no answers could be found, she gave Lyanna one last look before leaving the crypt.

The sun was harsh in her eyes after rising from the darkness. Dany left the lantern and walked, not sure where she was headed until she found herself in the godswood. "Hi," she said, unsurprised to find Jon here. Ghost was curled up beside him.

"... Hello." Jon watched her come over and sit beside him on the grass.

"Do you remember that time," Dany began, smiling. "When you covered yourself in flour and—"

"Scared you all in the crypts?" Jon finished. He laughed when she playfully pushed him. He and Robb had schemed to terrify Dany, Sansa, Arya, and Bran years ago. Robb led them to the crypts and that was when Jon had appeared.

"We thought you were a ghost!" she exclaimed, unable to suppress her own laughter. She and Sansa had shrieked and held onto each other. "But then Arya hit you!"

"Yes, I remember." Jon's laughter dwindled, but his smile remained. "Why?"

Dany thought of telling him the truth, but Jon already had so much on his mind. She didn't need to add her troubles to his own. "Everyone's leaving. I wonder if they remember that day fondly too."

"I'm sure they do. Maybe not Sansa," he replied. She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "Not everyone is leaving. You have Robb and Rickon."

"But not you," spilled out of Dany's mouth. Heat rushed to her face. She couldn't believe she said that _aloud_. There was no hiding from this, not when Jon was staring at her. "I'm going to miss you, Jon."

"I won't be gone for long," Jon said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

"I'll still miss you." Dany would miss everyone, but not everyone understood her like Jon. He knew what it was like to be an outsider. Sometimes words weren't even needed between them. She'd only have to look at him and he'd know what was on her mind.

Unthinkingly, Dany threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. He sat there frozen then relaxed and hugged her back. Jon always acted so shy when she showed him affection. Having him so close brought something tender and warm in her heart. Tilting her head up, she met his grey eyes, so dark she often mistook them for black. Dany couldn't count how many times the intensity of his gaze brought a fluttering inside her. Then she glanced at his lips. Did Jon ever think about kissing her? Did he _want_ to kiss her? She didn't realize she had leaned towards him until he whispered her name. Dany stayed, waiting to see if he would do it. Her heartbeat hastened when Jon tilted his head and finally kissed her.

It was slow and careful until the tip of his tongue brushed against her lower lip. Dany trembled in his arms, her pulse quickening. Jon pulled away, an apologetic look on his face, but she leaned forward to kiss him again. The kiss wasn't so careful anymore. It was deeper and messier and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, setting her blood on fire. His hands were at her neck and in her hair. Dany kept her arms around his neck, never wanting to let go. She held on even when their kiss ended, hiding her face against the base of his throat.

"Dany..." Jon started, his breathing harsh. She lifted her head, but froze when she heard a wolf howl. They looked at Ghost, but the direwolf never made a sound. It got up from the ground and ran out of the godswood. "Ghost!"

Untangling themselves from each other, they chased after Ghost. Dany wondered where the wolf was going, but bile rose in her throat when they were led to the First Keep. There was Bran's wolf howling and on the ground was...

Daenerys let out a scream.

* * *

It was a long walk down to the yard after saying goodbye to Bran. Jon had been afraid of Lady Stark. Not once did she leave the sickroom and he stayed away, but now there was no more time. He begged Father to let him stay until Bran woke, but the Manderlys were expecting him and Uncle Benjen already made arrangements to escort him to White Harbor. There was a ship waiting to take him and Tyrion Lannister to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea where they would travel by foot to Castle Black.

Outside, everything was noise and confusion. Wagons were being loaded, men were shouting, horses were being harnessed and led from the stables. Robb was in the middle of it, shouting commands. Grey Wind was at his side. He seemed to have grown of late.

"Uncle Benjen is looking for you," he told Jon. "He wanted to be gone an hour ago."

"I know," Jon said. He looked around at all the commotion. "Leaving is harder than I thought."

"For me too," Robb admitted. He had snow melting in his hair. "Did you see him?"

Jon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"He's not going to die," Robb declared. "I know it."

"You Starks are hard to kill," Jon agreed, his voice tired. The visit had taken all of his strength.

Robb knew something was wrong. "My mother..."

"She was... very kind." The lie came off awkwardly and Jon couldn't meet Robb's eyes.

Robb didn't look like he believed him, but didn't remark on it. "Good." He smiled. "The next time I see you, you'll be a knight."

"You'll have to call me ser," Jon replied with a strained smile. "How long do you think it will be?"

"Soon enough," Robb promised. He pulled Jon to him and embraced him fiercely. "Farewell, Snow."

Jon hugged him back, his resolve to leave threatening to weaken. "And you, Stark. Take care of Bran."

"I will." They broke apart and looked at each other awkwardly. "Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you."

"I have one more farewell to make," Jon told him.

"Dany?" Robb guessed. For a crazed moment, Jon wondered if he knew about what went on in the godswood. Then he remembered that Robb was out hunting and couldn't have. He and Dany were in their own world and he had felt so _happy_. Now Jon couldn't think about that moment without guilt eating at him.

"No. It's Arya," Jon finally said.

"Then I haven't seen you," Robb replied and Jon left him amidst the snow and wagons and horses.

It was a short walk to the armory. He picked up his package and took the covered bridge across to the Great Keep. Jon faltered at the sight of Dany leaning against the wall near her room door. She looked exhausted. He knew she spent every day since Bran's fall comforting his sisters. She had no idea how much that meant to him.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked, walking up to her.

"Septa Mordane has forbidden me from helping Arya pack." Her eyes went to the package in his hands. "Did someone give that to you?"

"A gift for Arya," he explained and she nodded.

Dany shifted on her feet before handing him a black fabric in her hands. He took it silently. Even with his gloves on, Jon could feel it was a ribbon made of silk. His eyes widened when he saw the red _D_ embroidered at the bottom of each narrow strip. This was Dany's favorite ribbon. She used it to tie her hair back whenever she went riding.

"Are you certain?" Jon asked quietly, squeezing the ribbon in his hand.

"Yes." Dany leaned towards him to kiss him on the cheek. As she lingered, Jon wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She untangled herself from him and they stared at each other for a long time. Then she nodded, a silent kind of farewell that ached his heart. Jon forced himself to go and say goodbye to Arya, leaving Dany to stand there alone.

* * *

Eight days.

His father and sisters were eight days gone and each day was more draining than the other. At the end of each day, Robb always thought, _I can't do this_ , but he managed to wake up the next morning ready to endure the next set of problems. It didn't help that Jon had departed for White Harbor. Couldn't the Manderlys have waited a little longer for him? Everything would have been easier if he remained here at Winterfell.

Robb found Dany sitting at the end of the stairs leading up the sickroom. There was a pensive expression on her face, one she seldom wore. Robb was used to her warm smiles and sweet laughter, not this reflective silence. Yet she smiled when she noticed him approach.

"It feels like ages since we last spoke," Robb said as he sat next to her. "I hope you don't think I've neglected you."

Dany gave him a look and he smiled sheepishly. "I understand you have duties to fulfill. You're practically the Lord of Winterfell now."

"Gods, who knew being a lord was so much work?" He didn't want to visit the sickroom, as horrible as that sounded. Robb went everyday hoping to convince Mother to leave and rest properly, but she was half mad with grief.

"Your father would be impressed," Dany said. She nudged him with a smile. "I certainly am."

"Someone has to do it," Robb mumbled. He closed his eyes as he tilted his head back, savoring the silence. He needed to sit with Dany more. Her presence eased his worries. "It's strange without everyone here."

"And quieter," she added. "The only noise I hear are the wolves and Rickon."

He withheld a groan when he heard Rickon. Opening his eyes, Robb saw Rickon coming over to them with tears in his eyes. None of the maids could console Rickon and Mother ignored him to watch Bran. Robb didn't know what to do with him. He didn't expect for Dany to hold her arms out nor for Rickon to run into them. He watched Dany soothe his brother with soft words and a hand rubbing his back.

"Do you take care of him often?" Robb asked.

"Whenever he feels restless he comes to me," Dany answered then ruffled the toddler's hair. "Right, Rickon?"

"Dany hasn't left me," said Rickon, clutching onto her.

"I haven't either," Robb pointed out, sharing a look with Dany.

"You're never here," Rickon replied then yawned. He flinched when they were heard shouting echoing from the sickroom. Robb knew the voice yelling was his mother.

"Let's get you ready for bed," Dany decided, gently removing Rickon from her to stand. She held his hand. "Your mother needs you, Robb."

Nodding, Robb walked up the stairs. Mother's voice grew louder as he neared, cracking like a whip in response to whatever Maester Luwin was asking of her.

"My son lies here broken and dying, Luwin, and you wish to discuss a new master of _horse_? Do you think I care what happens in the stables? Do you think it matters to me one whit? I would gladly butcher every horse in Winterfell with my own hands if it would open Bran's eyes, do you understand that? _Do you_?"

The maester bowed his head. "Yes, my lady, but the appointments—"

"I'll make the appointments," Robb decided, and both seemed alarmed to see him standing in the doorway. Mother looked rightfully embarrassed.

Maester Luwin looked from her to him. "I have prepared a list of those we might wish to consider for vacant offices," he informed Robb. He offered him a paper plucked from his sleeve.

Robb read the names. "Good men," he said, handing him back the list. "We'll talk about them tomorrow."

"Very good, my lord." The paper vanished into his sleeve.

"Leave us now," Robb commanded, then shut the door once Maester Luwin departed. He turned to his mother, taking in her unwashed hair and circles under her eyes. "Mother, what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" she echoed, puzzled. "How can you ask that? What do you imagine I'm doing? I'm taking care of your brother."

"Is that what you call it? You haven't left this room since Bran was hurt. You didn't even come to the gates when Father and the girls went south."

"I said my farewells to them here, and watched them ride out from that window." She took Bran's limp hand, twining their fingers together. "I can't leave him, even for a moment, not when any moment could be his last. I have to be with him, if... if..."

Guilt filled him and Robb made sure his voice wasn't so harsh when he said, "He's not going to die, Mother. Maester Luwin says the time of greatest dangers have passed."

"And what if Maester Luwin is wrong? What if Bran needs me and I'm not here?"

" _Rickon_ needs you," Robb snapped, his frustrations arresting him. "He's only four, he doesn't understand what's happening. He thinks everyone has deserted him, so he follows me around all day, clutching my leg and crying. Do you know who's with him now? Daenerys. She's been mothering him for you." The weight of his responsibilities were finally catching up with him and Robb suddenly felt overwhelmed. "Mother, _I_ need you too. I'm trying but I can't... I can't do it all by myself."

It may have been the waver in his voice or the emotion behind his words, but Mother seemed to finally understand what he was trying to tell her. Outside the tower, a wolf began to howl. Robb opened the window and let in the night air, relieving the stuffiness of the sickroom. The howling grew louder and he could hear the despair in it.

"Don't," she told him. "Bran needs to stay warm."

"He needs to hear them sing," Robb said. Somewhere out in Winterfell, a second wolf began to howl in chorus with the first. Then a third, closer. "Shaggydog and Grey Wind. You can tell them apart if you listen close."

Mother shook and he wasn't certain if it was from the cold or the howling. Then she started to sob and tore her hand from Bran's to cover her ears. "Make them stop!" she cried. "I can't stand it, make them stop, make them stop, kill them if you must, make them _stop_!" She fell to the floor, weeping, and Robb lifted her up.

"Don't be afraid, Mother. They would never hurt him," Robb murmured as he helped her to her narrow bed in the corner of the sickroom. "Rest. Maester Luwin tells me you've hardly slept since Bran's fall."

"I can't," she said through sobs. "Gods forgive me, Robb, I can't. What if he dies while I'm asleep, what if he dies, what if he dies..." The wolves were still howling and Mother screamed. "Oh, gods, close the window!"

"If you swear to me you'll sleep." Robb went over to the window, but as he reached for the shutters, he heard the hounds barking. He froze when he saw the flickering reddish light across the bailey. _Fire_ , he realized. "The library tower is on fire."

"Thank the gods," he heard his mother whisper. Robb turned to look at her, unsettled. Had she gone mad?

"Mother, stay here. I'll come back as soon as the fire's out." He ran before she could say anything, shouting to the guards outside the room to help him put out the fire.

Guards were already tossing buckets of water at the blazing tower when Robb finally reached them. When they finally put out the fire, someone alerted Robb that Bran's wolf had run into the sickroom, he gathered the maester and Ser Rodrik and half the guards to see what was going on.

He hadn't expected to open the door to find Mother shrieking with hysterical laughter, blood spattered over her face and oozing out of her wounded hand, nor to find her sitting near a man whose throat was ripped out. Most of all, Robb hadn't expected to see Bran's direwolf lying beside him on the bed, his fur dark with blood. When Mother finally stopped laughing, Robb wrapped her in a blanket and led her back to the Great Keep to her own chambers. He had Old Nan bathe her before Maester Luwin dress the wounds on her scalp and fingers.

_I can't do this_ , Robb thought again as he headed back to his chambers. Everything seemed to be going horribly wrong ever since his father and sisters left. He let his mind drift to something more pleasant as he soaked in his bath, only he couldn't think of anything.

It was the middle of the night when someone knocked on his door. Unable to sleep, Robb didn't have trouble climbing out of bed to see who was there. He widened his eyes at Dany. Her silvery hair was loose and tousled. It was strange seeing her hair not bound by a braid or ribbon.

"Can't sleep?" Robb asked, smiling tiredly.

"Walk with me?" Dany looked so lonely, so Robb nodded and went to put on something warmer. They walked through the empty halls of the castle, the silence between them lingering but not uncomfortable. Finally, she said, "Hopefully the rest will do your mother some good."

"I hope so too." Robb couldn't forget Mother's manic laughter. He quickly pushed that out of his mind. "Did the fire frighten you? Is that why you can't sleep?"

"I've never been afraid of fire," she told him. Robb felt like a dolt. He always forgot that Dany was a Targaryen. "No, I... I had other things on my mind."

Robb looked at her, waiting, but she never told him. He sighed and continued their aimless walk in easy silence.

* * *

It was the fourth day that Lady Stark was still asleep, her mind at ease from the milk of the poppy Maester Luwin provided her. That put Robb in better spirits, but he couldn't relax. Dany told him he'd soon start to grey, but he didn't find the jape amusing.

Dany found it hard to sleep alone. Her room felt impossibly large without Sansa and Arya. She missed those late nights of gossip and confessions, of braiding their hair and hitting one another with pillows. Blood or not, those were her sisters. Baratheon had to take them from her, just as he had taken everything else. Jon hadn't been taken from her, but it felt like it. He was likely close to White Harbor now. He was near Winterfell, so at least it was easier to see him than everyone else in King's Landing. Dany still missed him and so did Robb. He seemed almost lost without his brother, but he persevered. She didn't expect anything less from a Stark.

He wasn't in the yard, but Dany found Theon instead. He practiced with his longbow, never missing a target. "You never miss, do you?" she asked after he released his last arrow.

Theon turned around, that familiar smirk on his face. "You grow lovelier with each passing day, my lady."

That was unusual. "You're courteous this morning," Dany remarked.

"I'm always courteous."

"When are you _ever_ courteous?"

"Right now I am."

Dany laughed and followed him as he collected his arrows. She watched him and realized they should be closer. Theon was a ward like her and his reasons for living with the Starks were just as grim as hers, but he had a family that he could return to if Lord Stark permitted it. Dany only had a great-great uncle at the Wall and a lost brother.

"Theon?" she said, tentative. He glanced at her from over his shoulder. "Do you miss your home?"

"Sometimes," Theon admitted, considering her. "What made you ask?"

"I only ask because I wonder what it's like to…" Dany paused, trying to explain. "To have a home and miss it."

"Isn't this your home?" he questioned, gesturing to the castle behind them.

"Sometimes, but you know it isn't," Dany answered quietly.

Theon stared at her, a surprised look on his face. He shifted on his feet, about to say something, when someone called their names. Dany whirled to see Robb approaching them, dressed in boiled leather and ringmail with a sword hung at his waist. Robb's eyes widened at the sight of them, but he told them that Lady Stark had woken. He wanted them to join him as he told Lady Stark about her attacker. The man killed by Bran's wolf was not a man of Winterfell. Some said they saw him about the castle for these past few weeks. Dany had a feeling he was one of the king's men... or the Lannisters'.

She thought of Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer. Dany couldn't recall him looking murderous at the sight of her, but that didn't matter. He could easily hide his intent behind that comely face. Did he greet her father with a smile before killing him? As part of his Kingsguard, her father must have trusted Lannister. She remembered Joffrey's words and felt sickened by them. Her father wasn't mad and Lannister was a murderer. He would likely kill her had the king allowed it.

"He must have been a thief," Robb had theorized. "Why else would he have a dagger made of Valyrian steel?"

"But there's nothing to steal in a sickroom," Dany pointed out.

"Maybe he was lost," Theon said. He merely grinned when she and Robb glared at him.

It turned out, however, that there was more to the mysterious man than just being an ordinary thief.

* * *

Jon didn't believe his uncle when he said Jon would smell White Harbor before you saw it, but he'd been right. He expected something unpleasant, but it was clean. Jon liked the sharp, salty scent of the sea and understood why Father sent him here.

"Welcome!" exclaimed a large man as their small party entered New Castle. He was the largest man Jon had ever seen, with an immense walrus mustache and a head bare of any hair. "It's been too long, Benjen!"

"Ser Wendel." Ben smiled and greeted the other man warmly. Jon widened his eyes. _This_ was Ser Wendel? He glanced at Tyrion Lannister and found the small man smiling smugly. Jon's frown only made Tyrion grin.

He didn't like the dwarf at first. The first time they met was at the welcoming feast. He gave Jon counsel regarding his bastard status, something that sobered him but not by much. Jon was still drunk when he returned to his room that night. Then there was that day in the wolfswood. Tyrion had gone too far, telling Jon he'd only amount to being a bastard knight, but Ghost knocking Tyrion on his back humbled the small man. Now they were friends... of a sorts.

"Ser Wendel. It is an honor to serve you." Jon was more formal than his uncle.

"So serious. There's no mistaking that you are Ned Stark's son," remarked Ser Wendel. He slapped Jon on the back and he struggled not to stumble. "You seem strong, lad! It'll make training easier. And if it isn't Tyrion Lannister! I thought you were heading back south with your sister and the king?"

"I'm curious about the Wall, Ser Wendel. Have you ever been?" replied Tyrion.

"No, no. It's too cold and not enough eels," answered Ser Wendel, shaking his head. "The servants shall show you to your rooms, but Jon must come with me. I have much to show you, lad."

"Best not learn his appetite, Jon," Tyrion told him, keeping his voice low enough so only Jon heard. Jon hid his laughter behind a cough.

Ser Wendel led Jon through the castle, introducing him to everyone who passed by them. Jon could hardly remember all the names. He was more interested in all the sea creatures painted on the walls and floors and ceiling. It was almost dizzying trying to look at everything. He nearly bumped into a girl. Highborn from the look of her gown, but her hair was a different matter. It was pink.

"Is this your new squire, Uncle?" asked the girl. She looked no older than Dany.

"It is! Jon, this is my niece Wylla," Ser Wendel introduced, patting Jon on the back again. He was going to be sore by the end of the night. "Wylla, this is Eddard Stark's bastard, Jon Snow."

Jon bristled, but remembered Tyrion's words and forced himself not to get angry. Wylla seemed offended for him. "His _son_ you mean," she said, giving her uncle a sharp look.

"That's what I said," the big knight replied, oblivious. "Come on, lad. We still have much of the castle to see."

"It was nice meeting you, my lady," Jon said politely.

"It's Wylla!" exclaimed the girl and Jon smiled. She reminded him of Arya.

As Ser Wendel chattered on, Jon found himself less worried about his time in White Harbor. The knight was loud and boisterous, but meant well. Father esteemed him enough to have Jon become his squire. There was much of the port city to explore and Jon was eager to see it.


End file.
